


Outliers

by Lady_Quill



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, F/F, Humor, M/M, Original Fiction, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Quill/pseuds/Lady_Quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of tenants' lives in an early 19th century boarding house in Boston.  Work in progress, rating for future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. David, I

**Author's Note:**

> New to Archive of Our Own, so please be kind! Comments and suggestions are appreciated, though.

He felt trapped.  Sitting alone in the room, with nowhere to go, and only the endless ticking of the old clock left there by the previous tenant.  Jim might be down the hall, but he didn't count.  His hall-mate was rarely around, except for late at night when he brought home girls who left early in the morning.  No, Jim didn't really count as company.  David sat very still on his narrow bed, leaning against the wall.  He watched the second hand on the clock and listened.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick_.

 

The sound itself began to take up space in the room, and it was weird, and he really should just find a book or some friends or a life.  Preferably all three.  But David had tried, he really had.  Well, he told himself he had.  It had just... slipped away from him somehow.  He'd never really been of the social sort, and going out drinking with Jim wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.  Jim had promised it would be fun, but all that he remembered was dim lighting, alcohol making his head feel fuzzy, and some girl he didn't know pawing at his shirt.  He’d panicked, wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole somewhere very far away from the music and the chatter and the perfume.  He'd excused himself to the washroom, and there must be a god because he found his way to the exit instead, and he didn’t really understand how he made it back but he did, heart pounding long after he'd reached the safety of his bed.  Jim still invited him along sometimes to be polite, but David always turned him down.

 

He would never dare to bring anyone here; his parents were paying for him to stay at the boarding house while he studied medicine and if anyone were to find out and tell his parents he was... but they wouldn’t, he made sure of that.  It was good to get away, at least.  He didn't have to worry about anyone going through his belongings or the constant judgment of his character.   All anyone would find were medical books, and even if they were a bit odd, he was after all studying to be a doctor.  No one would be suspicious.  His thoughts were interrupted by the children playing in the room below; screaming something about Indians and "You can't tickle me! That's not fair!" before their parents came in to shush them.  Mrs. Doyles was never harsh, and David remembered when his parents were as fond with him.  Now there was only resentment, on both sides.  How he envied these children, who did not even dream their parents might turn against them; say such things as would, at times, make them hate their very existence.  David would still get letters from home, though.  He’d gotten one today.  Today was not the first he’d spent penned up in his room, hardly touching food or books.  He didn’t deserve the comfort of nourishment, and studying only reminded him of how he had failed.  Besides, he couldn’t focus on the words, selfish as it was to wallow in sadness like this.  He ought to feel more ashamed for letting it get to him.  The sentences stretched out from page to page, fading into the book itself, meaning nothing.  Worthless.  He was trapped, and lonely.  David hated himself for wishing for the comforts of parental reassurance, because the problem was _them_.  It wasn’t his fault if he’d tried and failed to reconcile things before leaving for medical school.  The words still hurt, though.  They were meant to.

 

Someone knocked on the door.  “I’ll be there in just a moment!”  David opened the door for Miss Wells and a tray of supper.  His stomach growled, which was odd because he wasn’t hungry.  He should have been dressed a little nicer, have combed his hair or _something_ but his landlady just gave him one of her strange, sad smiles and said, “You’re a good boy, David.”  He wanted to break down just then, but he waited until he’d thanked her for the food and she’d left.  Halfway into his supper he finally let himself cry over the beauty of a single human connection that meant absolutely nothing.


	2. Anne, I

For the third night in a row I find myself sitting in the far corner of my room, ear pressed against the wall, waiting.  I don’t actually know who’s staying in the room next door, at least not yet, but I’ve heard Miss Jones say that they’re only here for a week.  I guess a part of me doesn’t want to know who it is, or what they look like, because then I’d _know_.  It would feel like I was actually spying, like I was intruding, and that’s not something a lady does.  And then, if I really saw them in person, I’d blush so badly because wouldn’t they know, that I was listening in?  It’s late and I really ought to go back to bed, but I’m still crouched by the wall when I finally hear them open the door.

They don’t say much, though if I listen closely I can hear the rustling of clothes and the squeak of the bed when they get in.  They’re awfully quiet, probably because they think I’m asleep.  Miss Jones must have told them there was a girl staying in the next room over.  I’m almost grateful I couldn’t fall asleep that first night, and I’d just happened to cross to this side of the room, because else I never would have thought to listen.  It was a little strange, the first time.  I didn’t want to intrude and I didn’t understand why their sounds made me feel so excited.  I’m glad it’s just me staying here; it would be rather odd to explain to anyone why I’m sitting on the floor late at night when I should be asleep.

The bed squeaks again; I think they’re trying to rearrange the covers, and I can feel my heart race a little faster in my chest.  They might not do anything tonight, might just go straight to sleep, but the woman in the other room sighs softly and I know what that means.  Don’t want a crick in my neck, so I try to settle into a more comfortable position.  Is it strange, that I’ve looked forward to this?  Although I suppose I’d be less than amused if the couple had no regard for my sleep.  I press my ear tighter against the cold wall and I can hear them, a little louder.  The sounds get muffled; they must be kissing.  I can hear the moans catch in their throats and the methodical movement of headboard against wall with their weight on the bed.  The panting is louder, and it’s so much better with the sounds.  The woman moans a little more, high pitched like she’s begging, and the rocking of the bed gets faster and then it’s just a few more jerks until everything is quiet.  I scurry back into bed and try not to think about them leaving at the end of the week and what exactly it is that I’ll miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I wrote this I realized that spring mattresses weren't a thing in the early 19th century, so a bed probably wouldn't squeak? I'm trying to keep egregious anachronisms out of it, so I'd appreciate feedback if I've missed anything.


	3. Katherine and Constance, I

Constance sat up in bed and crossed her arms. “Alright Kitty, now tell me what’s the matter.”  
  
“Nothing, Con, I’ll fall asleep in a minute.” She turned over in bed and pulled the covers closer, as if to prove her point.  
  
“You’ve been up more than a few minutes. I can hear you thinking from here.”  
  
“You can?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Oh.” She was silent a minute, and Constance gently touched her friend’s shoulder, so that Kitty was facing her.  
  
“So, are you gonna tell me, or not?”  
  
“It’s silly.”  
  
“Tell me anyway.” Constance smiled and kissed her forehead.  
  
“I’m just worried about David. He looked so sad. He always does when he gets letters from home.”  
  
“You think it has something to do with – ”  
  
“I wonder if I could just find him someone… it wouldn’t of course fix the problems from home, but – ”  
  
“Kitty, I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop meddling in all our tenant’s affairs.”  
  
“Why?” Katherine whined. “It always works out in the end.”  
  
“Sure. If you say so.” But Kitty could tell she was more amused than exasperated.  
  
“Yes, Constance, I do say so.” She leaned up to kiss Constance on the cheek. “And you’re going to help,” she added cheerfully.  
  
“Nope. You want to fix this boy up, you’re on your own. I don’t want to be the one responsible when it doesn’t work out.”  
  
“Oh don’t be silly, of course it will work out. Thank you, dear, I feel much better now.”  
  
Constance rolled her eyes and slid back under the covers. “I’m still not helping you meddle.”  
  
“Night, Constance.”  
  
“Good night, Kitty.”


	4. David, II

“You really ought to get out more, David,” Jim said on his way out.

“Hmm.”

“You doin’ ok?”

“What?”  He’d been staring out the window, feeling sorry for himself.  Again.  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.  Just a little tired from studying.”  He wished he felt more comfortable around Jim than to lie about how he was feeling, but Jim wasn’t the sort of person he felt like he could open up to.

“Yeah, looks like you’re always studying.”  Sometimes he really hated that.  Everyone assumed he was so studious because he was quiet, he must be so smart and have a great work ethic… there were such higher expectations and it was so much easier to let other people down.  “Are you sure you don’t want to come out with me?  I’m grabbing a drink with a couple of guys and, uh, we’re not planning on coming back alone.”

“No, that’s really ok Jim.”

“Next time, then – and the more you get out the easier it’ll get.”  No, that wasn’t how it worked.  Not for David anyway.

“I’m really fine.  Thanks for asking.”

“Anytime,” Jim waved as he left.


	5. Katherine and Constance, II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is out of chronological order... but I wanted to show a bit more of their dynamic so here's a short dialogue

The young couple was just about to make their way upstairs when Kitty noticed her friend come in.  “Constance!  You’re just in time, the new tenants just came in this morning,” she called down the hall.  “I’d like you to meet Miss Constance Jones, my cousin who runs the house with me,” she explained.  “Con, this is Ben and Martha – ”

“No,”  Con cut her off mid-speech.  “No Martha’s.  Do you not remember the summer of ’02, there were two Martha’s on this floor, one upstairs, and then the one on the third floor thought it would be a _brilliant_ idea to name her next child Martha after her grandmother?  I am not repeating that again.”  Katherine turned to the couple and ushered them up the stairs with a “don’t mind her” look.

“Con,” she sighed.  “You can’t just say things like that to people.”

“But this is my house, I – ”

“It’s rude, dear.”  They stared at each other for a minute, until Constance threw her hands up.

“Fine, fine, I won’t throw them out of the house since you’ve already violated our sacred no-Martha’s rule.”  Kitty patted her on the shoulder.

“Thank you dear, you’re magnanimous as always.”


End file.
